


The Sun Machine is Coming Down

by RichieBrook



Series: Last Shadow Snippets [5]
Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Alex is probably high as a kite but who can even tell anymore, Alex just wants to touch, Fluff, Happy, Love, M/M, angst if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 12:12:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichieBrook/pseuds/RichieBrook
Summary: Øyafestivalen 2016. Miles and Alex are on stage together. Alex decides that he really needs a cuddle right when Miles starts playing a guitar solo. Miles is more than happy to indulge him, because who needs personal space, anyway?(We’ve probably all seen the video of this moment dozens of times and I know writing about it is the most unnecessary thing I've ever done, but I really couldn't help myself.)





	The Sun Machine is Coming Down

**Author's Note:**

> This is exactly what is says on the tin: just another silly Puppet snippet. I absolutely did not listen to 'Memory of a Free Festival' by Bowie and 'Within You Without You' by the Beatles all through writing this because that would mean you're about to read 1800 words about Alex being a bit high. (Sorry!)

It’s a good day for a festival gig. It’s August, the sun is out and a light summer breeze caresses Alex’ long hair as he struts around on stage. He’s calm and drowsy after having spent the entire day lying in the grass, soaking up the sun, smoking, drinking and listening to the music around him. It was probably the worst possible way to prepare for a show: His brain is currently floating somewhere amongst the innocent white clouds in the sky and his throat feels scratchy and sore, but the crowd is enthusiastic, his outfit clings to his frame comfortably and he feels _nice_. He feels nice and he feels free, and it’s a _really_ good fucking day for a festival gig.

His body is loose and pliant as he swaggers back and forth across the stage, lazily moving his hips to the beat of the music and casting lingering glances at Miles, who seems a lot less affected by all the sun and the drink, energetic as always. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t return Alex’ looks. He catches his friend’s gaze at every opportunity he gets, his eyes shining suggestively. Alex smiles and, when he’s sure that Miles is looking at him, moves his hips in just the right way. He usually feels like a bit of an awkward school kid next to Miles, who always looks so confident and polished, but not today. He feels _sexy_ today. Almost all of the buttons on his shirt are undone, except for the two buttons right above where the shirt meets a pair of high-waisted, flared trousers, which hug his waist snugly. They’re a bit on the showy side, even for him, but he likes them for a very specific reason. The first time he wore them was after Miles said that there was no way that Alex had the guts to wear them on stage. Of course he’d worn the trousers just to prove him wrong, and Miles had soon come to regret his teasing, after realising just how beautifully the trousers accentuated Alex’s very best assets. He’d spent the majority of the gig eyeing him up shamelessly. The night that followed is still one of Alex’ favourites to date. Today, as Alex is feeling particularly affectionate and in want of Miles’ attention, he decided that it would be the perfect time to bring out the trousers again. Miles arches an eyebrow as he watches Alex move, his eyes darkening visibly even as he turns away to sing into his microphone.

Alex watches him sing from the other side of the stage, a smug little smile on his lips. He can feel his heart jump gleefully in his chest and right then and there, he feels like he hasn’t got a care in the world. His vision is slightly blurry as a result of all the bad life decisions he made earlier that day, but somehow it just adds to the view of Miles losing himself in the song and in the sun, moving expert fingers over the strings of his guitar. His eyes have fluttered closed and his lips are slightly parted. He looks angelic, almost. Alex knows he’s really not; he knows what else those fingers are capable of, after all. A pleasant shiver runs up his spine, and he decides that he’s really not content with just looking anymore. He needs to touch.

He saunters over to where Miles has started playing his guitar solo and comes to a halt right behind his friend, fully aware despite the drowsy haze in his brain that they’re out in public. Hell, not only are they in public; they’re also the centre of attention. Alex uses the opportunity to gently pull Miles back against him by his shoulders, pressing him against his chest in a possessive gesture, claiming Miles as his for all to see. He can feel the muscles in Miles’ back tense up as he redistributes his weight. Slowly, Alex brings one of his arms up over Miles’ left shoulder while the other snakes under Miles’ right arm, pulling him in further. Miles carefully relaxes against him. He knows Alex won’t let him fall. He’s probably even more aware of that than Alex himself. “Hold me,” he mutters, and then he’s resting his weight entirely on Alex, trusting him to hold him up as he focusses on playing the rest of his solo. Alex tightens his grip and buries his nose in the soft fabric of Miles’ shirt, which is slightly damp with sweat. He smiles secretly into his shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs back, and indulges himself by nuzzling Miles’ shoulder and closing his eyes for a second. Miles smells of aftershave and crisp cotton and sweat and smoke, and Alex lets out a contented huff. He feels so lazy, and all he wants is to just melt into the music and melt into Miles. He could fall asleep right then and there, but apart from the very obvious fact that they have yet to play the rest of the gig, they have a long night together ahead of them, and what a fool he’d be for missing out on that. He untangles himself from Miles, waiting until his friend has put his weight back onto his own two feet again before stepping back and reluctantly ending their little moment.

He has to hurry to get to his own microphone in time and loses sight of Miles for a moment as he starts singing, the lyrics feeling heavy on his tongue. He touches his own cheek with the most fleeting of touches as he croons: ‘ _A kiss on either cheek’_ , his own fingers creating a sensation on his skin that feels like an afterthought, a reminder of Miles’ lips on that exact spot right before they went out on stage – a kiss for good luck. His skin buzzes with electricity when Miles appears in his line of sight again, catching Alex’ gaze as he slowly crouches down, resting his guitar on his lap. He moves to the beat of the music and looks up to Alex with fire in those eyes, challenging him. Alex almost forgets his words ( _I’m a phoney, I’m a fake, a fraud, a snake_ ), and makes a face when he sings them. They are words that are much too angry and loaded for a day as carefree as this one, but he spits them out with confidence, revelling in how lucky they make him feel that Miles will still have him, despite the fact that there’s a painful amount of truth to those lyrics. He really does feel like a bit of a fraud next to his composed, suave friend at the best of times. But not today. He’s invincible today, and even the next line makes him smile:

 _Gimme all your love so I can fill you up with hate_.

Those words, too, roll off his tongue easily and with conviction. Right in that moment, they become a testament to how he and Miles are complete opposites – love and hate, yin and yang. They become a spontaneous metaphor for how Miles’ unconditional affection dissolves every last bit of Alex’ self-hatred and insecurities. Being around Miles makes him feel free - free and high and _so goddamn sexy_. Alex has to bite his lip to keep himself from bursting into a chuckling fit.

It’s really not the kind of song Alex usually likes to sing while retaining eye-contact with Miles, especially on days when he isn’t feeling particularly good about himself. But he is feeling _so very good_ about himself today **,** so he doesn’t break eye-contact for a second. His own vision is clouded still, but Miles’ eyes remain awake and alert. And even though Miles is the one crouching down, he’s still the one who seems in complete control of both his mind and his body. His movements are much more coordinated than Alex’s, and Alex likes to think that some of the glances Miles keeps giving him are just to check in with him; to make sure that he’s still doing okay despite the fact that his brain is floating somewhere high up in the sky, having left Alex to fend all for himself, feeling like the personification of a particularly psychedelic Beatles song.

Fully aware of Miles’ eyes on him, Alex’ makes sure that his movements remain languid and sensual, and he's perfectly aware that his trousers hug his body in all the right places as they move with him. He dares to suggestively move his pelvis on ‘fill you up’, feeling quite chuffed with himself when he watches Miles’ lips part, his mouth opening in a silent gasp. Neither of them looks away.

It’s all very fucking cathartic, really, Alex thinks. Singing about love and hate right in Miles’ face suddenly seems like the only possible way to convey to Miles how completely _necessary_ it is that they stay together, like yin and yang and Tom and Jerry and all. ‘This is how I’ll feel tonight,’ he thinks, willing Miles to understand. ‘This is how much I’ll need you and this is how fucking _into it_ I will be when I finally fill you up’. He blushes even thinking those words, and Miles smirks back at him as if he knows exactly what’s going on in his head right now. He probably does, too. Alex loves how well they complement each other, and not in the least because it means that sure, Miles may push him up against a wall later all he wants, but Alex will have him in the palm of his hand during every single second of the night ahead. And what a night it will be.

Alex can’t stop himself from grinning widely. He has to distract himself if he wants to survive the rest of their set and abruptly turns his back to Miles, stifling more elated laughter. He sways on the beat of the outro, moving his hands about and closing his eyes. He tilts his head up into the general direction of the sun, happily soaking up the warmth. He thinks of how he might convince Miles to lie in the grass with him some more, later. He’ll absolutely fall asleep on him if Miles lets him. He thinks of how their bandmates will tease him endlessly for being so tactile, and of how he’ll whisk Miles away to Miles’ hotel room (they’re not usually picky as to whose room they’ll sleep in, but he needs it to be Miles’ room tonight). He can’t wait to fall into bed with him and peel off all those layers of clothing, before fucking him nice and slow and falling asleep with his head buried against Miles’ chest afterwards. For now however, all he gets to do is look, and it’s the sweetest form of torture there is.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading! I’m putting this series on the back burner for a bit. I’ve somehow ended up in a position where I have a lot of time to write, so during the past few weeks I’ve been spending all of that time working on an original project. I actually prefer writing these fun Milex stories, but I’ve been working on this project on and off for eight years now and I think I’ll regret it if I don’t end up with a proper first version now that I finally have the time and the motivation to get it done. I’ve another two of these snippets in the works, so they’re definitely coming, but maybe not for another couple of months or so. And who knows, if it turns out [I don’t possess the intellectual capacity to write a novel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMTCm4L9U18) I can always just start a band with my bff. :) :) :)


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